First meetings in the Enderverse

younger boy looked at his hands for a while, and finally Ender grew impatient and asked, “Well, what is it?”
    “I’m transferred. Got orders just a few minutes ago.”
    Ender closed his eyes for a moment. “I knew they’d pull something new. Now they’re taking-where are you going?”
    “Rabbit Army.”
    “How can they put you under an idiot like Carn Carby!”
    “Carn was graduated. Support squads.”
    Ender looked up. “Well, who’s commanding Rabbit then?”
    Bean held his hands out helplessly.
    “Me,” he said.
    Ender nodded, and then smiled. “Of course. After all, you’re only four years younger than the regular age.”
    “It isn’t funny,” Bean said. “I don’t know what’s going on here. First all the changes in the game. And now this. I wasn’t the only one transferred, either, Ender. Ren, Peder, Brian, Wins, Younger. All commanders now.”
    Ender stood up angrily and strode to the wall. “Every damn toon leader I’ve got!” he said, and whirled to face Bean. “If they’re going to break up my army, Bean, why did they bother making me a commander at all?”
    Bean shook his head. “I don’t know. You’re the best, Ender. Nobody’s ever done what you’ve done. Nineteen battles in fifteen days, sir, and you won every one of them, no matter what they did to you.”
    “And now you and the others are commanders. You know every trick I’ve got, I trained you, and who am I supposed to replace you with? Are they going to stick me with six greenohs?”
    “It stinks, Ender, but you know that if they gave you five crippled midgets and armed you with a roll of toilet paper you’d win.”
    They both laughed, and then they noticed that the door was open. Lieutenant Anderson stepped in. He was followed by Captain Graff.
    “Ender Wiggins,” Graff said, holding his hands across his stomach.
    “Yes, sir,” Ender answered.
    “Orders.”
    Anderson extended a slip of paper. Ender read it quickly, then crumpled it, still looking at the air where the paper had been. After a few moments he asked, “Can I tell my army?”
    “They’ll find out,” Graff answered. “It’s better not to talk to them after orders. It makes it easier.”
    “For you or for me?” Ender asked. He didn’t wait for an answer. He turned quickly to Bean, took his hand for a moment, and then headed for the door.
    “Wait,” Bean said. “Where are you going? Tactical or Support School?”
    “Command School,” Ender answered, and then he was gone and Anderson closed the door. Command School, Bean thought. Nobody went to Command School until they had gone through three years of Tactical. But then, nobody went to Tactical until they had been through at least five years of Battle School. Ender had only had three.
    The system was breaking up. No doubt about it, Bean thought. Either somebody at the top was going crazy, or something was going wrong with the war-the real war, the one they were training to fight in. Why else would they break down the training system, advance somebody-even somebody as good as Ender-straight to Command School? Why else would they ever have an eight-year-old greenoh like Bean command an army?
    Bean wondered about it for a long time, and then he finally lay down on Ender’s bed and realized that he’d never see Ender again, probably. For some reason that made him want to cry. But he didn’t cry, of course. Training in the preschools had taught him how to force down emotions like that. He remembered how his first teacher, when he was three, would have been upset to see his lip quivering and his eyes full of tears. Bean went through the relaxing routine until he didn’t feel like crying anymore. Then he drifted off to sleep. His hand was near his mouth. It lay on his pillow hesitantly, as if Bean couldn’t decide whether to bite his nails or suck on his fingertips. His forehead was creased and furrowed. His breathing was quick and light. He was a soldier, and if anyone had asked him what he wanted to be when he grew up, he wouldn’t have known what they meant.

    There’s a war on, they said, and that was excuse enough for all the hurry in the world. They said it like a password and flashed a little card at every ticket counter and customs check and guard station. It got them to the head of every line.
    Ender Wiggins was rushed from place to place so quickly he had no time to examine anything. But he did see trees for the first time. He saw men who were not in uniform. He saw women.